


long summer

by unhappyrefrain



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: (its arashi), Character Development, Cohabitation, Grief/Mourning, Lantern Floating, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Obon, Post-Graduation, Summer, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 17:05:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7276510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unhappyrefrain/pseuds/unhappyrefrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shu slips away on the last night of Obon to mourn. Mika doesn't let him go alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	long summer

**Author's Note:**

> "Tōrō nagashi (灯籠流し?) is a Japanese ceremony in which participants float paper lanterns (chōchin) down a river; tōrō is traditionally another word for lantern, while nagashi means "cruise, flow". This is primarily done on the last evening of the Bon Festival based on the belief that this guides the spirits of the departed back to the other world."
> 
> [ **required listening**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TtSt9kOyFFM)
> 
> i'm taking commissions now! [**check this post for more info**](http://unhappyrefrain.tumblr.com/post/145939780343/writing-commissions-open)
> 
> my enstars twitter is @retstars talk to me about valkyrie

Shu wakes from a mildly unpleasant dream to the even more unpleasant sound of a crowd moving outside the second-floor window.

Mika sleeps like a child, curled up and protecting his stomach, mouth slightly open and eyes closed sweet and soft. Shu watches him for a few sanity-preserving seconds, the anger that just spiked within him ebbing away with the regularity of Mika’s breathing. He softly shrugs Mika’s arm from around his waist, gets up as quietly as he can without any sudden movements. Mika doesn’t wake, doesn’t start— just sleeps heavy through the steadily increasing noise.

Grumbling softly (so as not to wake the butterflies—) Shu opens the blinds, peering out to the streets outside their house, ( _their house,_ ) the way the hill slopes down to the expanse of Yumenosaki Academy and then, further, to the sea. The streets are bustling, but the disturbance came from people taking the roads down the hill right next to the paneled sides of the house. It was always a sore thumb in the otherwise traditional-looking neighborhood, its soft pastel-blues and yellows contrasting desperately with natural white and browns. The English-styled shutters and paneled sides feel nothing less than out of place in the neighborhood, but the house has been in his family for as long as Shu can trace the history, so rather than embarrassment he feels a sort of pride at its heritage. _Anyway,_ he thinks, and his lips quirk up in a haughty smirk, _they don’t see the beauty of European-styled architecture over here._

But something snaps him out of his reverie, and it feels like a splash of seawater to the eyes. The moment he sees the lights sparkling over the ocean, he remembers.

Putting together those lights, and the fact that it’s already ( _already?_ ) the middle of August, Shu frantically flutters his hands— he _knows_ why they’re all migrating down there, now. And although he doesn’t want to admit it, Shu has an obligation. There is someone missing in his life who did not have to go missing as early as she did. It’s a faraway memory, but it’s still lodged in his chest. A nail to support the marionette string tied around it— the one that pulls at his heart regularly, to simulate some sort of a heartbeat.

Wordlessly, he slips on his jacket. His uniform is a bit wrinkled from his sleeping in it, but right now he’s a _little_ too distracted to put together an outfit. He shuts the door quietly, turning the knob as it hits the doorjamb, preventing the sound of the latch clicking into place from waking Mika. The stairs creak as he descends, and he steps into his shoes as he leaves, trying to regulate his breathing.

Which leads, as fate would have it, down to the oceanside, to Shu sitting in the rocky sand with a flickering paper lantern in his hands and a cavernous feeling of sadness in his chest.

 

* * *

 

The sun has set by the time Mika is fully awake, and the first thing he notices is that the house seems entirely empty. _Must’ve taken a nap,_ he thinks, _’n then Oshi-san prob’ly went out._ Briefly, he worries, because he’s been having to travel along with Shu when he runs errands. In summer, the town has been bustling, packed with people and smells and lights, and Shu isn’t too good with all of that stuff, so either Mika goes by himself or he takes Shu with him upon his insistence. But recently Shu has been getting out more, even if it’s just sitting on the porch of the house at dusk when the crowds die down a bit, so Mika breathes out a sigh, reassuring himself that if Shu had a problem he would have called by now.

Mika rolls over— the other side of the bed is still halfway warm. He must have left fairly recently. Dimly it hits him that if he had been napping, Shu must have been napping _with_ him, and the… very… _domestic_ implications of that do _not_ go over Mika’s head. The jacket is gone, and Mademoiselle is sitting on top of her powder-blue cushion, which is… maybe a _bit_ worrying. Shu usually _never_ leaves Mado-nee at home.

Curious, Mika tiptoes down the stairs, into the dim kitchen. As expected, the lights are off, and any indicators of cooking being done in the recent past have been meticulously erased, if not never there. There is a single croissant under the glass lid of the cake stand. Mika makes an audible noise of questioning. _Gotta investigate,_ he decides, walking over to the entryway and peeking shyly out of the stained-glass windows next to the door. There is a flush of light that he can’t quite make out from far away, so he tugs on his shoes and swings the door open to the whoosh of summer air.

Looking out from the porch, Mika recognizes the source of the light. It’s coming from the ocean, and it’s not just _one—_ thousands of them, drifting over the waves, down the hill from their street. They glitter in the new night, like thousands of jewels. His heart seizes in his chest. He _knows_ where Shu is.

Without a moment of hesitation, he propels himself down the streets, taking the alleys and shortcuts that lead down the hill, barreling through intersections and knocking over a few trash cans in his path, because he _needs_ to find Shu, because he’s _scared._ Because Shu is unstable in times of grief, and Mika has found him wandering towards death before, not quite crying but seeking reprieve. Not quite, even when he would collapse down into Mika’s arms, breath hiccuping, body giving out. Shu left without telling him, without even waking him up, and Mika feels a constricting, blackening pain in his chest, though it might just be from the effort of running. He stops, pants in an attempt to catch his breath, supporting his hands on his knees as his head drops helplessly between his shoulders.

“Onii-chan, are you okay?”

The sound of a child’s voice, over the ringing of his ears. Mika looks up— he doesn’t have to really look _up_ to see the kid— and sort of nods, as much as he can. He’s not good with strangers, but little kids are okay, right? _Huh,_ he thinks, seeing a separate pair of feet next to those little maryjanes. _Must be her ma or somethin’. Guess I can ask?_

“Y-Yeah. ‘M good. Uh, lissen, d’ya know— have ya seen—” God, his _accent_ must be _horrific_ right about now. “—Pink hair guy, about here tall,” standing up and gesturing a few inches above him. “Probably wearin’ a blue school jacket?”

“Ah, no, my apologies,” the older woman next to the girl says. It’s obvious she has no idea. It’s also obvious that she’s put off by his accent, which Mika internally scolds himself for. “I haven’t met such a person… it’s so busy around here, isn’t it? I wish you luck—”

“Gramma, no! I saw him!”

Mika’s head snaps up again. “Y-Ya did? Where?!” He realizes a bit too late that he’s sounding pushy, sounding _hysterical,_ but it doesn’t matter he needs to find Shu.

“By the sea! I saw the pink hair. You can’t not notice that.” The girl nods, proudly. Mika knows that pretty much _everyone_ was by the sea, but he feels a sense of gratitude anyway.

“‘Zat so? Thanks much,” he stammers, and the moment he catches his breath enough to move on, he does.

 

* * *

 

When Itsuki Shu was fifteen years old, after a particularly harsh breakdown, he made a promise to himself: he would never cry again.

He’s only broken it once, so far, and that was… _that was a suitable moment,_ he decides. The fall of his beloved Valkyrie, and the crumbling of his already shaky mental stability as he watched Nito turn his back and walk away, _that_ was suitable. But since then, he has not cried. He has felt it, though, many times— the impulse, the push of unbidden tears behind his eyes. His fingertips would go cold, then all the way up to his arms, and he would scratch frantically at his eyes, either to propel the pain over the emotion, or to disguise any signs of weakness, attributing it to pollen allergies he’s never had— and then it would stop. Mercifully, it would stop, and Shu would be left alone with his dolls, knowing he was still _stronger,_ that he was still _perfect._

Right now, Itsuki Shu is having a _very_ hard time keeping that promise.

 

The twilight is fading even darker now, and he watches the lanterns ebb in the reflective tides, swept further and further out to sea. He’s still holding his, watching the flame flicker slightly in gusts of sea wind, protected mostly by the paper frame. He never really set his out, in fear that light would go out as well— it’s definitely bad mojo, seeing as the spirits need to go home, but Shu doesn’t quite _want_ to let go. Her memory is so soft, the only one that ever understood him, a warm hand on his back when he began to feel his self-control slipping. He sits on a stray log of driftwood, his eyes alternating between fire and water, trying to distract himself however he can from the tears.

Most everyone has left by now, heading up the beach paths to the streets above. Shu has stayed behind, because the heaviness of his body is too much to bear right now, and if he burns the sight deep enough into his eyes, he might not have to cry after all. It’s getting harder and harder to ignore, though, this swelling in his chest. _It’s nonsense,_ he keeps telling himself, _you no longer cry anymore, these emotions do not befit you,_ but with every scolding he gives himself, there’s another soft hand to run over his messy stitches, another kind smile to heal his bruises and his stinging little heart— more family than his family ever was.

He wonders if Kiryu was here before, mourning for the same thing. Somewhere in that crowd he despised so much, a flash of red towering above the other bowed heads as the lights over the sea drifted out further and further-- he may have even been crying, though Shu doubts it would be obvious.

For an aching, stabbing moment, he starts to wonder if his refusal to cry is strength at all. Kiryu seems soft enough to cry sometimes, and Shu's never known someone as strong as he is, someone as put-together and dependable and certainly not anxious or borderline delusional or-- hurtful and toxic and damaged and _imperfect_ \--

He has to force the moment to pass, choking back an unbidden, tearless sob. _I can't_ , he thinks, and leaves the lantern flickering in the sand as he stands up shakily and walks (on legs as unstable and fragile as his heart) towards the churning, unforgiving ocean. He doesn't have much of an intention, with the sea drawing him in like this; he doesn't have any thoughts at all, not until he hears the sound of movement up the hill.

A scurry of motion catches his attention-- flailing and barreling down the sand path between the gentle dunes, as ungraceful and frantic as always, is Mika. He wobbles in the shift of sand under his feet, his arms desperately trying to keep himself balanced, panting and red-eyed and looking all too imperfect and human-- Shu turns, watches him, takes another numb step forward, and that's when Mika _slams_ into him, bowling him over into the sand half-wet from the tides.

Stunned, Shu lies there for a few very long moments, Mika's arms locked around his waist and chin resting on his chest, before he finally realizes the predicament he's in and _shrieks_.

"Kagehira! Get off me, _right_ now, failure, I've got sand in my hair and now my _jacket_ is getting wet, you need to--" And then he stops, because Mika's fingers are tightening into his shirt and his breathing is short and choked and he's-- crying. He's crying. Gross wet sniffles into the collar of his shirt, but suddenly Shu's mind goes blank and he couldn't care less about Mika messing up his clothes because he's _crying_.

"Oshi-san, nn," he sobs, looks up at Shu with those wide, mismatched eyes. "Scared me so bad, I forgot what today was 'n then I woke up and you were _gone_ , knew you were prob'ly all messed up, came down here to catch you walkin' into the sea like y'wanted... y'wanted ta..."

Shu rests his hand on Mika's soft, now sand-filled hair, allows himself to stroke, to soothe. "Don't be ridiculous, I wouldn't..."

"Woulda followed you anywhere," Mika whimpers, burying his face into Shu's chest. "Woulda... took your hand and... walked with ya if I couldn't change your mind..."

"I wasn't planning on--" Shu's body goes cold, as if already submerged, already breathless and taken under. _No, no, you can't say that, you can follow me anywhere as long as we're still breathing, don't you dare_ \-- "D-Don't say things like that, Kagehira, please, I..."

"'S true," Mika mumbles, but he relents. "Don't go anywhere I can't follow," comes the quiet plea, and Shu feels his heart drop straight through his body.

"I wouldn't," he promises, "I won't ever," _not as long as you still love me._

The curse is broken, the oath destroyed-- a usually rock-solid barrier dissolves like chalk in the rain, and finally, _finally_ , Shu lets himself cry.

 

Gently, softly, they struggle up to a sitting position and scoot back onto the driftwood bench, and the silence that follows is... somehow comforting. Mika leans, floppy and sighing, onto Shu's shoulder, and before he realizes what he's doing, one arm snakes around his back and presses Mika further into him, wrapping and protecting. Shu's eyes feel washed out, and he feels mildly disgusting, crusted in seawater and sand and snot, but bathing is the last thing on his mind right now.

"Your lantern," Mika finally points out, voice soft and still trembling a bit. "D'ya think you'd feel... better if we did it together?"

Shu looks back-- the flame is still alive and safe inside its paper confines, but there's no guarantee on how long it'll stay. He reaches back, grabbing it by the frame, and sets it down in front of them.

"She was the only family... I ever had," he says.

"Kiryu-senpai's ma?"

"Mm," Shu nods. Suddenly it's a little easier to talk, with the flame in front of him and Mika at his side like this. "She taught me how to sew, gave me the tools I needed to become... who I am. At least, the good parts." He huffs out a self-deprecating laugh, and Mika knows it's unlike him to talk badly of himself; _he's really shaken up right now, 'n that's why_ , Mika reassures himself, and rests his hand on top of Shu's. "Ryuu-ku-- Kiryu always used to tell me it was bad to get attached to someone else's mother, but he didn't understand. My mother wanted nothing to do with me, barely even spoke to me apart from scoldings."

"Yer mom was horrible," Mika admits, running his thumb over the soft skin of the back of Shu's hand, against the perfect tendons and knuckles. "But, eh, so was mine, so I guess we're even on the shitty parenting front."

"When she died-- Kiryu's mother, I mean-- I didn't know where else to go." Shu sighs, looking out over the ocean. "Kiryu and I went to separate middle schools, so we never had opportunities to see each other anymore. We were very different people by then."

Mika nods, feeling the sinking sadness of empathy in the pit of his stomach. "But ya met again here, so 's fine, right?"

"I suppose. Even now, he feels distant. Akatsuki-- his unit-- was too connected with the Student Council, and thus that blasted Tenshouin, so I didn't associate with them." Shu _hmphs_ , but Mika can hear the disappointment (and is that _regret_?) in his voice. "We still worked together on costumes, however, so I suppose it's not all bad..."

"Shu," Mika points out, "ya _graduated_. Ya don't need ta let those things get in the way of makin' friends anymore."

"Making friends? Hmph," Shu dismisses with a wave of his hand. "We haven't talked recently, but Kiryu still watches over them. Kanzaki, or whatever, and the new underclassmen he leads... ahh, but I know Akatsuki no longer associates with the Student Council, since Hasumi is gone as well, so... perhaps."

It only now occurs to him that so many people have left, and new members have joined, and Yumenosaki Academy is... not his home anymore. Tenshouin is gone, so those ties had been cut, but he still doesn't know what became of Wataru, or really _any_ of the Oddballs he'd been so attached to. Nothing is the same anymore, nothing but Valkyrie; Mika had left the academy after his graduation, and Valkyrie had stayed together, moving into the pro circuit. A wave of nostalgia washes over him, even though Shu knows there's not much to miss, nothing but countless days of fear and paranoia and weakness from hunger and bitter, bitter regret.

They are better now. _We are better now._

"This is no longer about Yumenosaki. You will stay with me, correct?"

"'Course I will," Mika breathes, leans even further into Shu's body. "Always."

"Good. I need nothing else." Saying that sends a shock of honesty up Shu's spine, but it's freeing, it feels right. "We only have each other, it seems."

"That's fine with me," Mika says. "I still wanna see Naru-chan though. It's okay, right?"

"Of course. I can't expect you to let go of your only other attachment." Shu feels a bit better, about that-- Narukami is kind, accommodating, and affectionate where he is not, and for all the moments Shu feel he doesn't deserve Mika's company, Narukami is there to compensate. _I can't be possessive of Mika while I still have all these personal failings_ , he knows, and maybe it's okay that way.

"I gotta drag you along to a Knights live sometime, she looks so _good_ now," Mika pipes happily, holding onto Shu's arm. "She grew out her hair 'n everything... She's doin' her best as the new leader, y'know, and it shows."

"Undoubtedly," Shu agrees halfheartedly. Mika is _honestly_ like a fawning puppy over her sometimes, and he supposes it can't be helped, not when Narukami has come into her own as a third-year-- he's seen the new unit layout, all the spotlights on Knights as "the new _fine_ of Yumenosaki"-- as well as the countless trashy tabloid articles concerning her gender. Ugh, so _many_. Must it be such a big deal? Narukami is what she is, after all.

It’s a startling realization that hits him-- usually he would never think twice about going to some other Yumenosaki units' live. But somehow, between graduation and this moment, Shu realizes he's gotten less prideful. _Somehow_ , Shu thinks, _I've become softer_.

"Mika. Help me with the lantern," Shu finally says.

"Oh--" Mika stands up quickly, at attention. "Yup!"

 

* * *

 

The waves lap at Shu's toes, wash over his bare ankles as he stands before the dropoff, pants rolled up embarrassingly to his knees, lantern in his hands, Mika steady by his side. The world is gentle and dreamlike, and the sky is clear, nothing left to obscure the subtle motion of the stars. Mika is warm against his ribs, hands wrapping around the crook of his arm, clinging, faithful.

Shu prays, for a few silent seconds-- so silent he swears he can hear the stars jingling, and together, he and Mika crouch over the water, and let the lantern go.

He cries for the second time that night, as it makes its way over the break in the waves, pulled slowly out to sea by the backflow-- as Mika takes his face in his hands in a sudden surge of courage, kisses him soft and assuring, warm and alive-- and it feels _better_.

He feels a dam finally open, a chain finally snap. His clockwork, metal heart feels again like flesh and blood and muscle. He feels free.

 


End file.
